


like the sweet song of the choir

by not_so_weary_pilgrim (orphan_account)



Category: Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, i am eight different layers of emotional turmoil after 3x08, idk even what the predominant emotion is, like a taco salad of feelings okay, my heart is just one big question mark tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-27 13:55:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21393292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/not_so_weary_pilgrim
Summary: Gilbert takes his Queen's entrance exams with his classmates, and then takes time to enjoy being a teenager after.Or, Gilbert is at the after party and partakes in moonshine, and flirting fueled by liquid courage ensues.
Relationships: Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley
Comments: 24
Kudos: 641





	like the sweet song of the choir

**Author's Note:**

> Look.
> 
> I am not even in the general area of having processed 3x08. So for the purposes of this fic, Gilbert and Winnifred are no longer an item. How, you say? When? Where?
> 
> I don't know, and I'm not going to come up with a backstory for that. Use your own imagination and decide how Winnie exits stage left - she and Gilbert ended on good terms and are still friends, or he left her at the altar, or she moved to the magical world of Narnia. I DON'T CARE, I just really needed to write this or I would have never gone to sleep tonight and I have a 12 hour shift tomorrow, so thanks for coming to my therapy session. Enjoy.

Anne is busy muttering the multiplication tables when Gilbert at last makes his appearance. Bitterly, she notices that he looks as composed and handsome as ever; she woke up this morning with two new spots on her forehead from all the stress. When she sees him notice her and head in her direction, she anxiously tugs her hat a little and tries not to think about the conversation at Miss Stacy’s yesterday.

“Sleep well?”

She lifts her chin. “Of course. What about you?”

“I did, at least until my eyes popped open at three o’clock this morning with the nasty feeling that I’d forgotten every geometry formula I’ve learned in the past two years.” His voice is even and steady, but Anne looks up at him and sees the self-deprecating smirk on his mouth and the faint shadows under his eyes. She relaxes. What a comfort to know that even the unflappable Gilbert Blythe is nervous, too!

Moody paces by again, rambling on about the histories of Quebec and Halifax. Gilbert raises one eyebrow at the bag in the other boy’s hand.

“Uh – “

Charlie snatches the bag and promptly loses his breakfast into it. Gilbert wrinkles his nose and Anne tries not to laugh while poor Charlie is still heaving.

“Oh, Charlie – “

Ruby gives a startled shriek; everyone turns to see the examiner walking down the lane. Anne feels an odd swooping sensation in her stomach that makes her realize Charlie’s reaction really isn’t all that ridiculous.

“Hey.” An elbow jostles her arm, and she looks up into Gilbert’s concerned face. “You’ll do great. I know it.”

The examiner is unlocking the door, and so all she can manage is a wobbly smile before they file inside and take their seats. Anne finds her place across from Jane, who is visibly trembling from head to toe. The papers are being handed out, and the examiner is droning on about instructions. She digs in her bag and –

“Gilbert!”

“No talking,” the examiner snaps.

“Sorry,” she says quickly. “I just loaned my pen to Gilbert yesterday and need it back.”

Gilbert is already halfway across the room and holding her pen towards her.

“I’m sorry,” he says, wide-eyed. “I forgot all about it.”

“That’s all right,” she says in a half whisper. Her voice is all but gone from the enormous lump lodged in her throat.

Gilbert hands her her pen, one long finger stroking hers gently. It happens so fast that she almost thinks it’s an accident, but he hesitates just a little before turning to head back to his seat, and she looks up at him. The soft smile and quick wink he gives her makes the writhing mess of nerves in her belly settle, just a bit.

She takes her seat, pen in hand, and begins.

/

Five hours and a relief-fueled crying fit from Ruby later, they’re all at the ruins. Anne feels as though she could float away into the night sky, disappearing into the darkness like one of the sparks from their bonfire.

They’re all nearly delirious with relief and joy, at a chance to simply enjoy their time here in this moment as not-quite-children but not-quite-adults either. When someone suggests a game of Red Rover, they form two lines quickly.

Anne finds herself directly across from Gilbert, who has taken to Charlie’s moonshine with surprising aplomb. It raises more than one question in her mind about Gilbert’s time at sea, but she keeps them to herself for now; after all, she is hardly complaining that he’s taken off his vest and rolled up his sleeves and unbuttoned the top two buttons on his shirt. His cap is somewhere nearby – none of them went looking after throwing their hats into the air when they arrived.

With a start, Anne realizes she’s staring – and that he’s staring back. Maybe it’s the two sips of moonshine she’s had already, but something in his face makes her heart pound so hard that she wonders if he can hear it all the way across the clearing.

His side goes first; Moody fails to break the line and jokingly protests his penance swig from the bottle.

Back and forth they go; Gilbert is called, and he smirks at her before running forward. Anne has to admit that she doesn’t hold onto Josie’s hand quite as tightly as the game requires, but she doesn’t think anyone will mind. They’re all laughing too much to take the game seriously anyway.

“All right Anne, drink up.” He’s laughing at her. For once she doesn’t mind.

“How come I have to drink, and Josie doesn’t?”

“Because you let go of my hand first,” Josie says, as primly as she can while giggling.

Anne laughs too and tips the bottle skywards. It’s still harsh going down, but the fire it leaves in its wake is worth the sting. A little bit dribbles out of her mouth when she swallows. She’s laughing harder now, and hands the bottle back to Charlie.

When she turns to take Josie’s hand again, she’s surprised to see Gilbert still standing there.

She’s even more surprised to find his eyes riveted on her mouth.

It’s not a subtle glance, like she thinks she saw on Miss Stacy’s porch a few nights ago. It’s not a friendly, generic sweep of her features that ends with a little smile from him.

No, this is a pin-pointed, blatant focus of his eyes on her lips. And he isn’t smiling.

Anne shivers in the warm evening. Heaven help her – his _eyes_….

“Gilbert! Come on, it’s our turn!”

“Yeah.” His voice doesn’t always sound like that, does it? “Just – Anne, you’ve got some….”

Before Anne can figure out what he means, he reaches up and wipes her chin with his hand. He catches the corner of her mouth with his thumb; the contact, however brief or accidental, makes her gasp. He hears her, she knows he does because his jaw tightens and that look in his eyes just gets worse before he finally turns away and walks back over to his side.

Anne watches his every step, which means she sees it plain as day when he faces her, lifts that same hand to his mouth and licks the moonshine off his thumb.

She’s almost surprised her knees don’t buckle. And she’s even more surprised that she makes it through the rest of the game without falling over; when it’s her turn to run, Gilbert breaks his hold easily, and takes his drink without taking his eyes off of hers for a moment.

Her breath catches, and she finds herself staring at his mouth in reciprocation. One side of said mouth twitches upwards, and she sees an extremely satisfied look on his face. Once upon a time that smug expression would have infuriated her. Now it just makes her cheeks heat.

On and on the games go, until the moonshine is all gone and fire has burnt itself to embers. Hats are found and Charlie tucks the empty bottle into his coat as everyone slips away in giggling twos and threes.

Surprised and yet expecting it, Anne finds herself walking alongside Gilbert. Their homes are in the same direction, after all, though she suspects that she could live on the opposite side of the continent and it still wouldn’t surprise her to have Gilbert Blythe walking her home. Somehow, he has become a constant in her world – like the creaky third step at Green Gables or Marilla’s schedule for cleaning the house or Jerry’s habit of whistling while he mucks out the stalls in the barn.

What is most surprising of all is that it doesn’t bother her. There was a time when Gilbert being there so much would have had her crawling up the walls to get away. And now his presence is a source of…well, it’s not quite comfort. Comfort is a peaceful emotion, and she feels anything at peace around him. She feels like her very soul is burning, like the mountains are waiting for her call before they hurl themselves into the sea, like the horizon and whatever dreams beyond it are within her reach.

She wonders if she makes him feel the same way.

“I’m definitely going to sleep well tonight.”

Pulled from her thoughts, she smiles at him. “Me too. But then tomorrow night I won’t sleep a wink, not until the results come in.”

Gilbert scoffs. “Anne, there isn’t a doubt in my mind that you passed with flying colors. And there shouldn’t be any doubt in your mind, either.”

Anne swallows the smile that wants to bloom. “Gilbert Blythe, are you telling me what to do?”

He laughs, heartier and deeper than she’s ever heard from him before. Maybe it’s the moonshine, but part of her wants to think it’s _them_, walking in the light of the stars and Gilbert’s lantern, their hands brushing every so often, that has him so carefree.

“Well, if all else fails,” he glances over at her, “you’ve got some potential in playing Red Rover.”

Now it’s her turn to laugh. “Please, I let you through on purpose!”

“Oh?” He smirks. “I think you just wanted a drink.”

She swats his arm. “No, Gil, that was _you_ that wanted me to take a drink. At least it was if the way you were looking at me was anything to judge by.”

Underneath the moonshine and post-exam euphoria is genuine shock over her statement; Anne knows she’s a bold person but she’s never been bold in _this_ arena before.

Gilbert has stopped walking, and is staring at her with that same quietly fierce expression in his eyes.

“And how was I looking at you?”

A small part of her mind notes the way his voice has gone all deep and soft and…and rumbly. The rest of her considers his question.

“The same way you’re looking at me right now, actually.”

He smiles. “And how am I looking at you right now?”

Anne tilts her head. “Hmm. Almost as if you…”

“Yes?”

When did he get closer? She swallows.

“As if you…”

“As if I what?”

She stares up at him, so close that she can count his eyelashes.

“As if you…want something.” Her voice comes out in a whisper. Anything else is too big, too loud for this moment.

“Want something?” Gilbert echoes, coming closer still and setting his lantern on the ground. His nose brushes, just a bit, against her temple. “What is it I want, then?”

“I don’t know,” she says, too quickly.

“That’s all right,” he responds evenly. “Let me give you a hint and see if you can’t figure it out.”

Anne feels the earth’s axis shift beneath her feet when Gilbert presses his lips to her cheek. What’s more is that he doesn’t completely remove himself when the kiss is over. Instead he drags his lips down her cheekbone, pressing small, light kisses all the way. He reaches her jaw, and switches sides to repeat the process.

She’s not sure she’s breathing. At some point his hand came up to hold her face; he’s got her chin in the crook between his thumb and forefinger. Hopefully if she does stop breathing his doctor skills will override whatever is happening right now.

“Any guesses?” Gilbert pulls back just enough to look into her eyes again. What she sees there makes her knees shake so badly that she reaches for him out of instinct. One hand on his upper arm and the other pressed to his chest makes his jaw clench again.

“I think so,” Anne manages. “But you’d better give me one more hint, just to make sure.”

He smiles, blinding and bright in the lantern’s shadows. His lips land, soft and gentle, at the very corner of her mouth, and Anne seizes her chance.

Before he has time to retreat, she surges forward and catches his mouth with hers. She can tell by the way he stiffens a little that she’s surprised him. But he relaxes almost immediately, and the hand on her jaw slides round to sheath itself in her hair. His other arm is suddenly around her waist, tugging her so close to him that she can feel the buttons of his suspenders digging into her hip.

It’s perfect, and that’s all without considering his mouth.

Anne has written many a kiss scene before in her stories. She’s used words like passionate and tender and chaste, but she’s suddenly aware that she’s been writing them all wrong. It’s not so much the kiss itself that is so wonderful – and it _is_ – it’s the way Gilbert makes her feel like she is the only girl on the whole island, in all of Canada. There is nothing on his mind right now except her, and the realization makes her slide her arms around his neck and pull him a little closer too.

“Anne, I – “ Gilbert loses whatever he was going to say when she cups his face in her hands and kisses him so hard he staggers. “_Anne_.”

“Gil.”

With what looks to be hercuclean effort, he pulls away. His hands don’t move, though, so hers don’t either. One of her fingers strokes the shell of his ear; he shudders and clears his throat.

“Anne.” His eyes go all soft again. “I really love your hair like this. You look like something out of the ancient Greek myths.”

She snorts. “I’m quite certain they didn’t have redheads in Ancient Greece.”

“Their loss.” Gilbert smiles down at her and kisses her again, this time short but all the sweeter. “I should probably actually walk you home sometime tonight, or Marilla won’t even let me inside the housed when I come over tomorrow.”

Anne reluctantly steps out of his embrace, but he picks up his lantern with one hand and her hand with the other. She smiles up at him and presses herself against his arm as they walk.

“It…it is all right that I come over tomorrow, isn’t it?” For the first time since he took his first swig of moonshine, Gilbert sounds unsure of himself. It’s adorable.

“Of course it is.” Anne squeezes his hand. “You might have to explain to Matthew and Marilla what you’re doing there. And then they won’t let us out of their sights.”

“That’s all right.” Gilbert squeezes her hand back. “I won’t be ready to actually propose for a while yet anyway. I’d rather get to know you like this a little first. Is that all right?”

Her heart is surely about to burst; it can’t be healthy for it to feel this full. “More than,” she assures him. “I wouldn’t be ready to give the answer you want right now. Getting to know you like this sounds lovely.”

Gilbert smiles, relieved, and kisses her on the temple; Anne rests her head on his shoulder and thinks what a wonderful, curious thing this growing-up business is turning out to be.

**Author's Note:**

> A Rose Amongst Thorns should be updated this week - Wednesday at the latest, hopefully sooner. 
> 
> ***the title for this fic is a pun (think Elvis Presley). First person to get it right in the comments gets a sneak peek of the new chapter for A Rose Amongst Thorns!
> 
> thanks for reading - and come find me on tumblr!


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